


Lullaby

by anneryn7



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), steter - Fandom
Genre: Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Peter, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Kanima Jackson Whittemore, M/M, Nice Peter, Protective Peter, Werewolf Jackson Whittemore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:46:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneryn7/pseuds/anneryn7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slight AU. Steter. Stiles isn't okay after the kanima showdown with Jackson and Gerard. He's exhausted, mentally and physically. No one else knows that Gerard beat him to try and get to Scott. He just needs someone to take care of him and to put him first - to notice his pain. He can't keep going it alone. He just can't. He has no energy left and nothing else to give. Peter notices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF OR THE CHARACTERS.  
> Music Credit: "Lullaby" - Nickelback

_~*.*~_  
_'I'm telling you that, it's never that bad._  
_Take it from someone who's been where you're at._  
_Laid out on the floor and you're not sure you can take this anymore…_

_So, just give it one more try, to a lullaby and turn this up on the radio._  
_If you can hear me now, I'm reaching out, to let you know that you're not alone._  
_And if you can't tell, I'm scared as hell, 'cause I can't get you on the telephone._  
_So, just close your eyes._  
_Oh, honey, here comes a lullaby – your very own lullaby.'_  
_~*.*~_

* * *

I stared in shock as Jackson picked himself back up off of the floor. He died. We all just… I just watched him fucking _**die**_. How is this even possible?! I was transfixed.

Lydia ran over to him and they were a crying mess of emotion. Of course, she runs right to him. She goes right back to the guy that's been nothing but a douche to her since Peter took her in the woods. Of fucking _**course**_. Story of my sad **_fucking_** life.

I glanced over to the spot that Gerard was lying and saw it empty. There's just a trail of that nasty looking, black sludge that was leaking out of him. Great, so even he's gone. Because why would anyone worry about the homicidal maniac that tried to beat me to a pulp.

I sighed and started walking over to my jeep. Thankfully, it's relatively unscathed. She's dirty and a little dented, but she'll run. I hopped into the driver's seat and backed out of the building. I did my best to ignore the pointed stares I was getting from everyone else.

I can't fucking deal with them. I can't deal with _**this**_. I can't deal with anything. My brain is fried and I have nothing left to give anyone. Even if sticking around would have beneficial for them, it won't do a damn thing for me. I just… I need _**somebody**_ to take care of _**me**_ , for _**once**_.

I barely paid attention to the road as I drove to my house. Dad's car is gone. He probably got called into work… again. I sighed and turned off my jeep.

Hot tears burned my eyes. I sniffled and tried to quiet the ache in my heart and everywhere else. I wasn't successful in the least. Thick, unwavering tears poured down my face. I hiccupped and cried harder. I can't even remember the last time I cried.

I just can't. Everything is just so… draining. It's too much. I have no one. I can't talk to anyone. No one understands. I can't talk to my dad, because everyone else wants him left in the fucking dark. I'm fucking terrified that keeping him in the dark is going to get him killed. I can't lose him, too. God, I **_can't_**.

I leaned my head on my steering wheel and let it out. No one is around to judge me. I don't even fucking care.

* * *

By the time I was finished, my eyes were swollen and my head ached. My eyes feel like someone stuffed cotton into both sockets. I wiped off my face with my shirt and pulled myself out of my jeep. I didn't even bother to lock it, before letting myself into the house.

* * *

Peter's POV

I watched Stiles retreat from the rest of us as drive off. No one said anything. The pregnant pause was too much for me to stomach. I started to walk after Stiles, but Derek put a hand on my arm to stop me. I looked at him and he dropped his hand.

I didn't have to follow Stiles to know where he was going. I ran to his home and got there just as he arrived. I stayed in the shadows and watched him. He may only be a teenager, but so many people take him for granted, Scott and my nephew, especially. He's been different tonight, even I could sense it. No one tried to help him.

My morality may be questionable, but I do care about young Stilinski. There is something about him that I can't quite put my finger on. I have met many people throughout my life and none are like Stiles. He is an entity of his own. I'm drawn to it, to **_him_**. For that reason, I refuse to watch him get swept under the rug or cast aside. He deserves so much more than that and I'm going to be the one to give it to him.

My attention was brought back to Stiles as I heard him sniffle and his breath hitch. I can hear his sobs and make out his crying form from here. I've never seen him look so defeat.

He has always been loyally by Scott's side. He is just human. So many of us forget, that at the end of the day, Stiles is just human. Who takes care of him when he's taking care of everyone else? That's too much for anyone to handle alone.

* * *

Stiles' POV

I shut my bedroom door behind me and just looked at my bed. I don't even have the energy to sit down. Everything just seems so hard, so impossible. I'm not strong enough. I can't.

I heard my window open and I jumped. I started to fall backwards, when someone held out their arms and steadied me. My eyes found Peter's. I was too tired to be surprised. I was too tired to ask him why he was here or even to care. He's here. Okay. It's not like werewolves ever announce themselves or ask for my permission before they barge into my room, anyway. Why would tonight be any different?

"Stiles, are you alright?" Peter asked me, with an unnatural gentleness. I sniffled and shook my head. I whimpered as fresh tears forced themselves down my face. I grimaced as Peter watched me weep. "Who did this to you?" He whispered, touching the injuries on my face, softly. I hissed as he touched the cut about my eye that I hadn't bothered to clean.

"I can't." I murmured. He nodded and seemed to accept my answer.

"You're shaking." He told me. I looked at him, confused. I can't feel it. I can't feel anything. I'm just hurting. I'm always hurting. I'm so ** _tired_ ** of hurting. I just want it to stop. I want it all to stop. "Stiles, look at me." Peter pleaded. I heard him – I really did. As hard as I tried, I just couldn't focus on him or his voice. "Stiles?" He said something, again.

I felt something warm press against my forehead. I blinked and my eyes fluttered up to Peter pressing his lips to my face. He? Peter noticed that he had managed to get my attention. He pressed his lips to my head, again, before pulling away.

"Stiles, I'm going to take you to the shower to clean you up. Do you understand?" He asked me. I nodded, feeling what little energy I had leave my body, fast.

He wrapped an arm around my torso and hugged me to his side, so he could lead me to my bathroom. He sat me down on my closed toilet and turned the hot water on in my shower. He crouched down in front of me and pulled off my shoes and socks.

I looked at him, _**really**_ looked at him. He's sort of beautiful, sort of _**really**_ beautiful. He's the notorious 'bad guy,' so everyone forgets that he's a person, an actual person, like me. He sees so many things that everyone else misses. He _**sees**_ me. Finally, someone sees _**me**_.

He leaned forward and tugged off my plaid over-shirt. He raised my arms and pulled off my graphic tee. I wanted to help – I really did. I just _**couldn't**_. Peter seemed to understand that, because he didn't ask me to. He didn't get angry or stop undressing me. He just did it in judgment-free silence. Right now, I fucking _**love**_ him for it.

I noticed Peter's mouth and the way that his tongue brushes his bottom lip, when he's really concentrating… Like how he's concentrating on my belt buckle, right now. I noticed the muscles in his arms that flexed, under the rolled up sleeves of his Henley. I noticed his unnerving ability to focus on just one thing. I've never really been able to do that.

He unbuttoned my jeans, as my belt clattered the bathroom floor. He pulled me up and pushed my jeans down. I stood standing, wondering if he was going to pull off my boxer-briefs, too.

I noticed how he made my heart pang when he looked me in the eyes. I noticed that we're the same height when he's wearing shoes and I'm not. I noticed that despite his narcissistic tendencies, he is undeniably handsome and quite possibly the most devastatingly attractive person I've ever laid my eyes on, male or female.

My underwear was at my ankles and I became vaguely aware that somewhere along the way, my tears stopped. Peter helped me step into the shower. I leaned against the wall and stood there. He kept the curtain open a crack, to watch me.

"Stiles, who hurt you?" Peter tried again. Everything came rushing back to me all at once. I shook my head back and forth.

"I-I can't, Peter. I can't." I whimpered. Tears graced my cheeks, once more. Concern washed over his body and I watched him start to take off his own clothes. He got in with me and started to wash me. I stayed still, just sobbing, as he cleaned me.

"Stiles? Please, say something. You're starting to scare me." He prodded. I sniffled and tried and failed to get myself under control.

I was staring at my feet and then I was staring at Peter's face. I gasped as I realized that his lips were firmly attached to mine. He moved his mouth softly, against mine. I responded out of instinct. I clutched his shoulders and held onto him, trying to use him as some sort of anchor. I feel like I'm falling apart and I need something to keep me together.

"Stiles," Peter whispered, as he pulled away. I looked at him dumbstruck. My tears had slowed to a soft trickle, as opposed to the raging waterfalls they were before. "So, I need to kiss you when I want to get through to you?" He asked me, smirking, lightly. I almost smiled, _**almost**_. "You're obviously in shock. Please, talk to me." He requested, again. I took a deep, shaky breath and concentrated on his eyes. I need something to keep me grounded. "Tell me who hurt you. I promise you, I will make them pay."

"A-Allison's… Gerard. Gerard attacked me." I confessed, quietly. Saying it out loud doesn't make me feel any better, but knowing that I'm not only person with that information does.

"He did this to you?" Peter asked, touching my face for clarification. I nodded, slowly starting to slip back into my own head. "Stay with me." Peter breathed, bringing his mouth back to mine. I whimpered as he pulled away. I tried to do what he asked - to stay with him. He didn't ask me to tell him anything else.

Peter started to clean himself and then we both rinsed off. He got out of the shower first and wrapped a towel around his waist. He helped me out of the shower and turned off the water. He started to dry me off and leaned me against the bathroom counter. I hissed when he started to clean the wounds on my face. It didn't take him long. He led me back to my bedroom, when he was finished.

After he rifled through my drawers, he produced a clean pair of underwear and put them on me. He gave me a clean shirt. I stared at it as he dried off. He borrowed a shirt of mine and I took a moment to appreciate just how good tight things looked on Peter. He also hijacked a pair of boxer-briefs.

He sat down on my bed, next to me and put my shirt on me. I looked at him in thanks. He stood up and helped me to my feet. Peter pulled back my covers and helped me into bed. I wasn't surprised, until he got in with me. He turned off my bedside lamp and encased his arms around me. I burrowed into his embrace. It's nice and I feel safe, _**wanted**_. God, it's nice. I've missed this feeling, so _**fucking**_ much. I don't think I realized how much, until now.

"Are you alright, Stiles?" Peter asked me, quietly. I shook my head. He nuzzled the top of my head and placed a soft kiss on top of my hair. "Talk to me. I'm here for you." He tried. I took a deep breath and tried to will my words to start.

"I… I feel so alone, Peter. Everything is complete shit. It never gets better, not really. I can't even tell my dad about everything. It's going to get him killed one day. What am I gonna do if he dies? I don't have anyone else." I trembled with my admission.

"Then, we'll tell your father, Stiles. He _**is**_ the sheriff. I think he should know what's been going on."

"No one cares about what happens to me. There are always other priorities. If I died, no one would care." I cried.

"That's not true." Peter argued. "Everyone would care. They just do an appalling job of showing it. You matter, Stiles."

"No, I don't."

"You matter to _**me**_." Peter told me. My breath hitched and I froze. "The fact that Gerard had the nerve to target you is so inconceivably low, I can't stand it. Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"That's what he wanted. He hurt me to get to Scott. I'm not letting someone die because of me. I'm not worth it. I couldn't live with myself."

"You're such an extraordinary person, Stiles. You don't even see how special you are. The fact that you won't let someone die for you, says much more about your character than Gerard's. You're worthy of so much, Stiles." Peter promised.

"I can't remember the last time I felt like I was." I whispered.

"That's probably more our fault than yours. We have a habit of putting ourselves before you, don't we?"

"Sometimes," I admitted. Peter laughed. I realized how much I liked it. It's a melodious sound that lifts me up from the core. I wish I could hear it more often.

"What do you need, Stiles?" Peter asked me. I looked up at him and bit my lip.

"I need to not be alone, even if it's just for tonight. I need to feel… worthy, to feel loved." I breathed.

"Let me help you."

"Why?"

"I care about you, Stiles. I couldn't concentrate on anything else tonight, when I knew you were hurting. That's why I followed you here."

"You're serious." I whispered.

"Of course, I am." He replied, stroking the side of my face with his thumb.

"You'll stay tonight?" I asked him.

"I'll stay as long as you need me to stay." He promised. He'd really do that for me? I heard something quiet, but didn't pay enough attention to notice what it was. I didn't realize what was happening, until I felt Peter's lips on mine. As soon as it registered, Peter pulled away. "Does that bother you?" He asked me. I shook my head. "Good because it seems to be the only way to hold your attention."

"Is that the only reason you've been kissing me?" I blurted out. He chuckled.

"No, Stiles, it's not. I enjoy kissing you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you, is that a problem?"

"I… n-no."

"Nothing has to be decided tonight."

"I've had enough people leave." I told him, exhaustion washing over me.

"Is that what you think I will do?"

"I don't know."

"You're vulnerable tonight. I didn't want to force your hand into something you didn't want."

"I want _**you**_ , Peter." I confessed.

"Then you have me."

* * *

For one night, Peter was there. For one night, he held me and made me feel safe – feel loved. For one night, I knew I wouldn't be alone in the morning. For one night, I knew I was forgotten in this fucked up world.

I knew that Peter would keep his word and be here in the morning. And I knew that I would let him.

* * *

_~*.*~_  
_'Please, let me take you out of the darkness and into the light._  
_'Cause I have faith in you, that you're gonna make it through another night._  
_Stop thinking about the easy way out…_  
_There's no need to go and blow the candle out, because you're not done._  
_You're far too young and the best is yet to come…_

_Well, everybody's hit the bottom._  
_Everybody's been forgotten._  
_When everybody's tired of being alone…_  
_Yeah, everybody's been abandoned and left a little empty handed._  
_So, if you're out there and barely hanging on…_

_So, just give it one more try, to a lullaby and turn this up on the radio._  
_If you can hear me now, I'm reaching out, to let you know that you're not alone._  
_And if you can't tell, I'm scared as hell, 'cause I can't get you on the telephone._  
_So, just close your eyes._  
_Oh, honey, here comes a lullaby – your very own lullaby.'_  
_~*.*~_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This might just be a two-shot. I really haven't decided.
> 
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF OR THE CHARACTERS.

Chapter Two:

* * *

 

No one called or tried to get in touch with me for days. I tried not to dwell on it. True to his word, Peter didn't leave, at least while my dad wasn't home. He was just here. I don't know if he'll ever know how much he has helped me by just being here, but I know that I couldn't have gotten through this without him.

I feel so completely worthless and broken down… I don't even know how to get through the day alone, anymore. That scares me. It scares me that this has become my normal. It scares me that I can't compose myself enough to just be anything, right now. I feel like I've given all that I can give and more and now I just have nothing left.

I was always there to help. That was my job. When the pack needed something, they came to me. When I needed something, I had to find a way to just deal with it. They took everything I had and left me empty and used. They still expect me to do everything to save everyone else and save the day and I just can't.

* * *

"What the hell?! Get away from him!" I jerked away and saw Scott screaming at Peter and Peter growling at Scott and holding me protectively.

"Scott, stop!" I yelled. I looked at him, incredulously. Scott just took a step closer. Derek climbed in through my bedroom window and just stared at the situation.

"I told you to get away from him." Scott yelled, again. Peter was ready to pounce, I felt him tense up. I placed a hand over his arm. He looked down at me and visibly calmed down. His eyes were still blazing an electric blue.

"Scott, don't." Derek warned him. He was sniffing the air in the room. "Why do you smell that way –?"Derek started to ask, but looked like he answered his own question. "You've been gone all week, Peter."

"Someone had to take care of him. It's obvious that none of you were. He took a beating for you and none of you cared to notice. He's only human, in case you forgotten. It's funny that no one ever tried to see if he was alright, until they needed something." Peter growled. I kept my mouth shut. I just leaned into Peter. He nuzzled the top of my head and I felt some of my anxiety dissipate.

"Buddy, you know we didn't mean anything by it. Things have just been so crazy and Allison needed me." Scott half-apologized.

"How many times have you foregone Stiles, because of Allison?" Peter asked Scott, thoughtfully. Scott looked down and scratched his head. "You don't deserve him." He added. Scott opened his mouth to argue.

"Hey! He's my best friend. Since when do you think you know what's best for him, anyway?!"

"Since I had the sense to notice that he was in so much pain that he couldn't function." Peter replied in an icy tone. Scott stopped talking right away and just stared at me. I sniffled and tried to focus on anything but my burning eyes and the tears building up. Peter shushed me and kissed my forehead. "It's alright, sweetheart."

"Seriously?" Scott gaped. Derek glared at him, this time.

"He's his mate, Scott. Get over it. Peter isn't wrong… As much as I hate to admit it. We all take Stiles for granted. It's not fair, especially to him. Someone can only take so much, before they are pushed over the edge. He needs time and we're going to give it to him. I'm still the alpha, Scott. I may not be your alpha, but if you bother Stiles, before he's ready, you won't just have Peter to deal with. Am I clear?" Derek directed to him. Scott nodded.

"Was it really that bad?" Scott asked Peter in a low voice, like I wasn't even sitting right here.

"Few things scare me, Scott, but seeing Stiles in that much pain did. I have never seen someone suffering so much, without physical injury." Peter whispered. The gravity of his words seemed to end all discussion of the subject for everyone. I didn't know how I felt about any of this or if Scott was really going to respect what they said. I just hoped that he would. There's no way that I would be any help to anyone, right now.

"I – I'm sorry." Scott mumbled, before leaving. Derek just stared us, unsure of what to say.

"We all are." He told me, before leaving, too. I was left with Peter in my room, the way that I liked it. I waited until they were long gone, before I was brave enough to let my tears fall. Peter just held me and let me cry.

"I won't ever leave you, Stiles. I promise you that." Peter promised, as he wiped away my tears. He leaned down and captured my lips with his in a tentative kiss. He leaned his forehead against mine. "We'll build you back up and you'll become a stronger man, because of this. I have faith in you."

"You do?" I asked, in awe of his words.

"I always have."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is by far the darkest Teen Wolf fic that I've written. I've been thinking about this all day and I think it came out nicely. The characters probably came out a little OOC. Sorry! Review though?! Yes?  
> -Anneryn


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